Voices
by Ketharil
Summary: Post-NJO; missing moment. Qwi Xux invited Kyp to Vortex in DT:R. Did he ever visit it? Complete.


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            This fic was originally posted on theforce.net, where I go by the screenname of SaberBlade.  If you recognize this, don't worry, it isn't plagiarized; I'm simply reposting it here also.

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            General Disclaimer:  Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and the characters belong to their respective authors.  Anything you don't recognize is mine; please respect my muse.  I don't intend any infringement with this fic; it was created because I have an abiding love for Star Wars and a wish to share my interpretation of it with the world.

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            **Details:**

            Name: Voices

            Time Frame: Post-NJO

            Pairing: Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo

            Summary: A NJO-inspired missing moment.

            Rating: PG to PG-13.

            Story Status: Complete.  See bottom for Author's Notes.

            Specific Disclaimers: I will be quoting excerpts from Dark Tide: Ruin.  Those words belong to Michael Stackpole, and not me.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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_ SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1____Standing there between the two Jedi and the crystal structure was a tall, blue-skinned female.  She wore a gown of midnight blue that set off her flesh color and pearlescent feathery hair.  Luke had once heard the term ethereal used to desribe her, and here, at the Cathedral of Winds, it seemed so appropriate.  Willowy and even fragile, she seemed a phantom composed of the melody washing over him._

_            As he approached, he smiled at her and was a bit dismayed to see that she did not return his smile.  "Greetings, Qwi Xux."_

_            She nodded.  "Greetings, Master Skywalker.  It has been a long time.  I am sorry you came all this way.  I cannot help you."_

_            Mara frowned.  "How can you say that?"_

_            The frail Omwati smiled knowingly.  "I know many things, Mara Jade.  I know that when, with Wedge, I helped repair the damage here I did something that was good.  After leaving him, I realized that this was the only place where I found peace.  I returned and begged the Vors to let me continue my work here.  It is my hope that through the songs of the winds, the laments of my many victims will be given voices.  Once that happens perhaps I will finally know complete peace."_

_            Luke nodded solemnly.  "I can understand the desire for peace."_

_            Qwi sighed.  "Very few do.  Here I have a chance to create something of beauty which might counteract the horrors I created."_

_            Luke an Mara exchanged a grim glance before Luke spoke.  "I'm sorry if my appearance here reminds you of past pains.  I wish you all the best in seeking this peace.  If there is anything I can do to help..."_

_            A quick smile contorted her face for a heartbeat.  "I had hoped, perhaps, that Kyp Durron might come here.  I don't know if he is haunted as I am, but I would hope he would hear the people of Carida singing here."_

_            "That is a request I will relay to him."  Luke glanced down at the ground for a moment.  "Kyp could use some peace."_

_            Except from Dark Tide: Ruin by Michael A. Stackpole._

-

            Vortex, Kyp supposed, had changed little in the past eight years.  That was something to be proud of.  Most other planets had been hit by the Vong, made into refugee camps or destroyed by fighting.  Vortex was still peaceful, still beautiful with large plains waving with grasses, crystalline spires still delicate and twisting high into the air.  The Vors that glided on air currents high above him were still innocent of the horrors of war, still calm and serene even after such destruction had happened throughout the galaxy.

            Kyp envied them, but knew that the feeling was superficial.  Too much had happened to him for him to ever again be that calm, that peaceful.  The least he could do was to shoulder the burden of war so that the innocent wouldn't have to.  Better that he saw destruction than they; better that he fought and hurt and bled than they.  Their innocence was worth protecting.  His had been shattered, but he still fought so that theirs would not be.

            It was the least he could do.

            He hadn't wanted to come to Vortex, but somehow Luke's casual comment had wormed into his brain and stayed there.  It had taken years for him to finally decide to take Qwi Xux up on her offer.

            So here he was, walking toward the Cathedral of Winds and the one woman who had, perhaps, the greatest cause to hate him.

            The Cathedral towered above the plain, shining bright with crystals and glass, reflecting the sun and refracting its light into thousands of bright twinkling pinpoints.  The wind whispered through it, sending eerie and strangely beautiful music streaming out into the air.

            The woman standing before the Cathedral was like the music: eerie and strangely beautiful.  Qwi Xux had changed little from how he remembered her.  Still delicate, still somehow waif-like, but still calm, collected, and with sorrowful eyes.

            Still somehow terrifying, still a living sign of the horrors he had done years past.

            A particularly strong gust of wind sang through the Cathedral just as he stopped before her; her wispy-thin hair fluttered about her face, and she looked at him with those sad eyes.

            "Welcome, Master Durron," she said, opening her blue-tinted hands.

            He wondered how she felt addressing him as a Jedi Master.  "Thank you for inviting me," he said formally.

            Her face was still neutral.  "I had hoped you would come."  She let her hands drop back to her sides.

            "It took a while for me to get used to the idea."  He glanced down at the fertile soil beneath his boots, then took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet hers.  "I don't know if I've ever said it before and meant it, but I'm sorry for what I did to you."

            She met his eyes evenly, and tilted her head.  "And you mean it now?"

            He nodded.

            "Then you are forgiven."

            Her words were simple and emotionless, but somewhere within him, something caught.  "I didn't come to ask forgiveness," he said sharply.

            "I give it to you all the same," Qwi said.  "I have had time to reflect on what you took from me.  I understand why you took my knowledge, and that you were under a dark influence at the time.  I do not approve of the fact that you stole parts of my mind from me, but I have long since forgiven you the act."

            "You might have, but I haven't."  The words were blurted out before Kyp could think about them; he shut his eyes briefly and wished that she didn't make him feel like the brash sixteen-year-old he had been when he had first met her.

            To his surprise, a faint smile spread across her face.  "That is why I invited you here," she said, and a wave of her hand took in the towering spire of the Cathedral behind her.  

            He didn't understand, but was polite enough not to say anything.

            "Do you know why I work here, with the Vors?" she asked.

            Kyp shook his head wordlessly.

            Qwi looked up at the flock of Vors flying overhead.  "I feel as though I am atoning here," she said.  "As though here I can find something to do to show the world that I am sorry for what I have done."  She glanced at him.  "The things that I created killed billions.  Billions of lives lost, gone in seconds, because of my knowledge and my creations.  They haunt me.  Do you understand that?"

            For a sudden instant, he saw not her face but a star in the throes of death, a planet exploding out, a sharp and painful instant of loss through the Force.  "Yes," he said, fighting the memories back.  Through the Force, he felt a soft brush of comfort, acceptance, and knew that he had let his shields down enough to broadcast his emotions.  Sharply, he slammed them back up, regretting his momentary weakness.

            "Do you ever feel that you cannot atone for what you've done?"  She wasn't looking at him, but back up at the sky and the flying Vors.  

            _Every single day_. But all he said aloud was "Yes."

            "You and I aren't all that different, Master Durron," she said, returning her strange gaze back down to him.  "We've both made choices that killed billions.  We both have to live with that."

            "We're not the same," Kyp said harshly.  "You didn't know what you were doing.  I did."

            Her silver-grey gown rippled as she shrugged, the fabric as graceful as her movement.  "The end result was the same."

            "The intent wasn't."

            They were silent a moment longer, and then Qwi spoke again.  "I cannot become a Jedi Master to prove my atonement.  I cannot lead a squadron into battle or protect the New Republic to show that I have changed.  I cannot fight to protect the innocent, no matter how much I believe in the cause.  I cannot show my regret over what I have caused, nor can I work to make reparation for what I have done, as you do.  But here- here I can atone."  Another graceful gesture took in the Cathedral.  "Here I can give voices to those whose deaths I caused.  Here I can create something that will stand in their memory.  I have a purpose here.  And it is enough."  She looked at him closely.  "Will you stay for the concert?"

            He didn't want to agree.  "I will," he said.

            She seemed satisfied.  "Good.  I will reserve seats for you and your companion."

            _And your companion_. He flinched.  "You don't have to do-"

            But Qwi shook her head.  "Who is your companion?"

            He winced again.  "Jaina Solo.  Han's daughter."

            "Ah."  She laced her fingers together.  "Why do you not want me to meet her?  I have met her father, mother, aunt and uncle."

            Kyp debated his answer, and finally decided that he owed her the truth.  "Because you are a part of my past I would rather not remind her of," he said through clenched teeth.

            "Ah."  Qwi looked at him.  "Then why did she come?"

            "Because she said I shouldn't be alone."

            "Then why isn't she with you?"

            "Because she said I should speak with you alone."  Kyp saw the irony of it even if Jaina did not.

            "Ah," Qwi said softly once more.  "She understands you, then, I would say."

            Kyp glanced over his shoulder, back towards his Sekotan fighter and the X-wing sitting nearly a mile away.  "Unfortunately."

            When he looked back at Qwi, her eyes had sharpened.  "We are not that isolated here," she said.  "I have heard of Jaina Solo's exploits during the war.  And they reminded me of another young Jedi apprentice's rash actions.  Did she fall as you did?"

            Kyp felt his anger rise, and let it cool down.  "It's her business to tell you, not mine," he said shortly.  He wouldn't betray her trust again.

            "Ah," Qwi said.  Kyp was beginning to hate that little word of comprehension.  "Then perhaps she needs to listen to the concert as much as you do.  Please, invite her to join us.  I will see you both tonight in the stands."

            And Qwi Xux turned and began to walk back to the Cathedral, stride long and gliding.  Kyp watched her go, feeling as though he had been supposed to understand far more than he did from their conversation, and eventually turned his back on the Cathedral of Winds and made his pensive way toward the small landing area they had been directed to.

            It took barely ten minutes for him to reach it, and he was no more clear on what, precisely, half of Qwi's words had meant when he stepped onto the landing pad.  Jaina was sitting against his fighter- he had taken to calling the Sekotan ship Stubborn, to reflect both what he thought about the ship and what the ship thought about him.  She was leaving back into the glowing green skin, eyes shut and a smile on her face, obviously enjoying the late afternoon sunlight as it played across her body.

            Kyp paused, felt his own smile come to life at the sight of her.  She wore her simple pilot's flightsuit, but had apparently been spending too much time under Tahiri's influence, because her boots were sitting beside her and her feet were bare.  Her hair was tangled and windblown, her creamy skin shaded golden in the sunlight.

            His smile was wry.  "Sleeping, Goddess?"

            Her eyes didn't open; he was unaccountably pleased that she was comfortable enough with him that his sudden appearance didn't startle her.  "Just thinking.  Are you all right?"

            "Confused," he admitted, and moved to sit beside her.  It was easily apparent why she had chosen her spot- Stubborn was a warm, pulsing presence behind him, firm and soft against his back, and the sun was slowly sinking in the sky before him, sending rays of light that stopped just short of being hot across his body.  "It wasn't what I expected."

            "Life rarely is," she pointed out, and let her eyes flutter open and her head turn to look at him.  "Are we heading out, then?"

            She made to stand.  He reached out, caught her hand, and pulled her back down.  "Not just yet, Goddess," he said, and draped his arm across her shoulders.  "We've been invited to the concert tonight."

            "Oh.  And we're going?"

            He couldn't keep the smile from his face at her incredulous tone.  "Yeah, I think we're going."

            Jaina's head dropped against his shoulder; not for the first time, he marveled at how well it fit there.  "You sure you don't want to go by yourself?"

            "Hey, you're the one that said I shouldn't have to do this alone."

            "Oh.  Right."

            The silence stretched out comfortably.

            "Kyp?"

            "Mm?"

            "You need to stop feeling guilty."

            He remembered the brush of reassurance she had sent him when he had lowered his shields, and sighed.  "So do you."

            "I'll stop when you stop."

            "It's not that simple."

            "No?"

            "No."

            "Explain it to me."

            Kyp was silence for another long moment.

            "Qwi said she was haunted by those that her creations killed.  She said that she and I were more alike than I thought because of it- we've both caused the deaths of billions.  But she didn't know that what she made would kill.  I knew that what I was doing would kill."

            "And so how does that work into the whole guilt thing?" Jaina asked.

            He couldn't keep himself from chuckling.  "She seems to think that I need to stop feeling guilty."

            "I always knew she was smart."

            He hugged her closer for a moment.  "She said that she works with the Vors to give voices to those her creations have killed.  And because their voices are still here, it's a way for her to atone.  The voices let her know she's atoned.  I guess the voices make the guilt go away for her."

            "You've atoned and you still feel guilty."

            _You've atoned_. Her simple support, her confidence, her trust, made that same part of him Qwi's forgiveness had touched open a bit more.  He glanced down at her head, at the tumbled brown hair lying against his shoulder.

            "I guess I haven't heard the voices telling me that yet," he said.  

            There was another long silence; then, "Neither have I," Jaina said, so softly he nearly missed her words.

            He understood why she still carried much the same burden of guilt that he did- she had fallen, she had betrayed close friends, she had sent good people to their deaths for her cause.

            "You've atoned," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.

            Her sigh brushed across his throat and made the flesh there prickle.  "It's not enough," she said.  

            He knew what she meant.  Atonement- how he hated that word.  And yet how he tried so hard to grasp and fulfill it.  And yet...  Atonement merely filled the guilty void in his being; it didn't completely heal the hole of guilt.  He wondered if Qwi's guilt had been healed by the voices she had made.

            Forgiveness, he supposed, would heal the guilt.  But it was impossible to gain forgiveness from the dead.

            They watched the sunset together in silence, taking comfort in the peace and serenity of the unspoiled world.   As they stood to prepare for the concert, Jaina raised her head to look at the rapidly darkening sky, and said, "This is what we fight for."

            Kyp understood what she meant.  "Yeah," he agreed simply.  "It is."

-

_            Qwi pressed a hand to her breastbone.  "You are heroes.  You may have killed, but it was in battle, defending yourselves.  I created weapons that shattered worlds and murdered billions in an eye blink.  Innocents were vaporized.  You may have felt that through the Force, but I have felt it by studying about the worlds I destroyed.  I know the names, know the images, and with them I work to give those extinguished lives a voice.  I strive to let those people contribute to the beauty here."_

_            Except from Dark Tide: Ruin by Michael A. Stackpole_.

-

            He felt a bit ridiculous, getting dressed in his formal clothes to go sit in a stand and listen to the wind.  But Luke, upon finding out where he and his niece were visiting, insisted that they both pack a set of clothes suitable for a concert.

            Kyp wondered if Luke had had a vision.

            A landspeeder had been sent to the landing pad, and Kyp sat in the back with Jaina and wondered just what feminine trick Jaina had performed to transform herself from a windswept pilot into the daughter of a princess and a goddess in her own right.  Somehow she had managed to appropriately dress for the concert in the spartan confines of the landing pad's small administration building.  Something her aunt taught her, Kyp assumed, and simply enjoyed the result.

            They arrived at the stands.  Kyp was surprised that there was no artificial light to make navigating the stands easier; rather, the stands were dark boxes filled with Vors and guests from around the galaxy.  The only lights on were focused on the Cathedral- it glowed silver-white in the darkness, slender and somber and somehow glorious in the night.

            Qwi found them just as they entered the stands.  She still wore her silver-grey gown, and still looked somehow fragile and alien and beautiful.  "Good evening, Master Durron," she said quietly.

            "Qwi Xux, meet Jaina Solo."  It felt odd to introduce the two.

            It was even stranger when Qwi came forward and gave Jaina a smooth embrace.  "Welcome, Jedi Solo," she said.  

            Jaina didn't flinch back.  A credit to her mother and Threepio's long lectures on protocol, she was able to meet Qwi's eyes evenly and smile politely.  "I am honored to meet you, madam," she said formally.

            "And I you."  Qwi's strange eyes looked at her intently for a moment, and then she said, "I am glad you would not let him come alone, and glad that you know when he needs to be alone."

            Jaina smiled faintly at the older woman.  "Thank you for inviting me to the concert," she said, instead of commenting on Qwi's previous statement.

            Qwi's expression did not change, but she seemed somehow satisfied.  "Come with me," she said, and turned.  She led them through the stands to their seats, high in the air and opposite the Cathedral.

            Jaina sat beside him, her shimmering blue gown clinging around her and making her appear nearly as ethereal as their hostess.  Kyp fleetingly thought of the red gown she had wore on Hapes.  The gown tonight was more dignified, more subtle, more something her mother would have worn, and yet she appeared just as achingly beautiful now as she had then.

            But that could have been just the moonlight.

            Still, he reached for her hand, and only when her fingers laced through his did he relaxed.

            She was still his Goddess, just tamed down a bit.  And despite his reluctance to involve her, Kyp was glad she was there.

            "The concert will begin shortly," Qwi said, gliding to the back of their small dias.  Only then did Kyp realize that the three of them were alone in that section of the stands- it was a small part of the stands, most likely to be reserved for visiting dignitaries.

            He vaguely was amused as the idea of himself as a dignitary and thus important, but then turned his attention to the Cathedral, burning bright silver and white against the night sky, like a lightsaber thrust up out of the earth towards the stars.

            The concert began softly, a mere hint in the air that the Vors had taken flight, a slight shift in the sounds emerging from the Cathedral.  Soon the air was humming as the Vors rode the winds and changed them, changed the way the gales blew into the Cathedral's hollows and tunnels.  

            Kyp knew how the Cathedral worked, how the thin walls would vibrate with the rush of air through them, how the propellers would turn within the spire and how the louvers rose and fell to sharpen and soften the sounds.  He knew that the same technology that Qwi had created for the Sun Crusher was, modified, aiding the production of the music.

            But still, the music caught hold of him.  Eerie and beautiful, somehow alien and familiar at the same time, the winds were transformed into clear notes that rose and fell in a cacophony of song.  It seemed as though each note was a single voice, as though each hollow tube in the spire a mouth through which a piercingly clear note could emerge.  The notes blended, mixed, rose and fell like tides, swelled with hope and dampened with sorrow.  The clear notes were haunting in their crystalline beauty- it was as though each note was an individual voice, and the thousands of voices were crying out together in love, in hope, in fear, in hate, in joy, in sorrow, in accusation...          

            ...in forgiveness?

            The music seemed to issue from the very air around him, a powerful blessing somehow flung out of the sky and into his heart, granting him pardon for all his crimes.  

            _We were Carida_, the voices announced. _We lived, we loved, and we died.  We were Carida._

            Guilt rose up within him, so heavy and dark that it nearly smothered him.  Jaina's fingers had gone tight and painful in his.

            _We were Carida_, the voices thundered. _We lived, we loved, and we died.  We were Carida._

            Millions- billions- of people.  Innocent and guilty, old and young, good and bad, angry and calm, accepting and fighting.

            _We were Carida_, the voices accused. _We lived, we loved, and we died.  We were Carida._

            And he had been the one to kill them.  He had been the one to turn their voices into silence.

            _We were Carida_, the voices sang. _We lived, we loved, and we died.  We were Carida._

            And it was his fault that they were dead.  His fault that they were gone and Carida was no more.  His fault that there was nothing left of Carida but silence.

            The music shifted and the bright notes changed.  

            _We are Carida_, the voices murmured. _We lived, we loved, and we died.  We are still Carida._

            The guilt was smoothed back, the choking guilt of failure, the smothering guilt of betrayal, the burning guilt of murder.

            _We are Carida_, the voices celebrated. _We sing, we speak, and we are not forgotten.  We are Carida._

            Forgiveness fluttered into him; he felt torn open and remade.

            _We are Carida_, the voices whispered. _We bless, we forgive, and we hope.  We are Carida._

            The chorus swelled and abruptly died.  The concert was over; the Vors no longer guided the air through the hollow tunnels.  Music still remained, but it was the music that had flowed over him all day, the simple whistling music of natural wind running through the Cathedral.  But still, faint and dim in that sound, Kyp could still hear the voices.

            _We are Carida._

            He looked down, saw his hand still in Jaina's, and realized that his grip was too tight to be comfortable.  He relaxed his fingers as she relaxed hers; neither noticed the red fingerprints the other left on their hands.

            There were tears in Jaina's eyes when she turned towards him; his own cheeks were wet with tears.  Kyp bent and kissed her, the forgiveness still flowing through his mind.  "I heard the voices," he said into her lips, unwilling to let her go.  It was as though a huge burden- one he had carried over half his life- had been lifted.

            Jaina merely wrapped her arms around him and cried into his chest, small sobs that shook her whole frame.  Kyp held her close and wondered if she too had been absolved of her crimes, if those she felt she had wronged had granted her the same forgiveness Carida had granted him.

            He raised his eyes from the top of her head, and as he stroked her back, looked into the strange eyes of Qwi Xux.

            Qwi's eyes were dry, but the sadness that had lurked there that afternoon had lessened.

            "Thank you," he said, and his voice was hoarse and thick with emotion.  Jaina twisted in his arms to look at the frail Omwati scientist.

            To his surprise, Qwi smiled at him- a full smile, a smile he had no real rights to see.  "Be at peace, Kyp," she said softly, and turned and left them alone.

            Kyp pulled Jaina closer to him.

            Peace.

            "Thank you," he murmured again as Jaina's arms tightened around him.  But he wasn't speaking to her, and she seemed to realize that.  He spoke to the voices... voices that had given him something he hadn't deserved.

            _We are Carida._

-

_            Qwi brought her slender-fingered hands together. [...] "Giving a voice to the dead is a noble pursuit, but it is one that I hope, someday, will no longer be necessary."_

_            Except from Dark Tide: Ruin by Michael A. Stackpole_. 

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Author's Notes: This fic assumed a relationship between Kyp and Jaina.  For those of you interested, this is a companion piece to my other fic, Miracle, which you can find in my profile.  Miracle starts about two years after Voices, and is the story of Kyp and Jaina.


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